


Bees who ought to be in Bed: Late Cake

by Kiiratam



Category: RWBY
Genre: Cooking Lessons, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 09:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20889557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiratam/pseuds/Kiiratam
Summary: Blake insists on making cake. At 2am. It's not like Yang is going to say no.Takes place between Volumes 2 and 3. (My BMBLB fic index)





	Bees who ought to be in Bed: Late Cake

"Okay, Blake. It's two in the morning, and we have a test in seven hours. Will you _please_ tell me why we're in the kitchen, and not bed?" Yang was more than happy to indulge whatever Blake's latest impulse was, but not knowing what it was just frustrated her. And she missed bed. Soft, cozy, wonderful bed. Still in her pajamas, Yang slouched against the island in the common room kitchenette. Soft, cozy, wonderful counter...

  
The counter shook, jolting her awake. Blake had dropped a very full grocery bag onto it. Well, probably 'gently set', knowing Blake, but Yang's face had been lying on the counter. "We're making a cake."

  
Yang sighed. She was no stranger to pre-dawn sugar cravings. After all, Yang had practically raised Ruby, uncrowned queen of the 1am cookie dough binge. But why couldn't they wait just a few hours and make cinnamon rolls, or pastries, or donuts? Why cookies and cake? Night owls were weird.

  
"I didn't know you baked, Blake."

  
"I don't." She paused, mulling over her words. "Well, not really. I can make wontons, and sometimes casseroles, but I can't _bake_ bake. I don't think I've ever made cookies or cake or bread, or anything like that."

  
Yang shook herself, squeezed her face between her hands, trying to wake up. If they were going to use the oven, she should probably actually be awake, so they didn't burn the dorms down. Like Weiss had almost done. "Okay... So why now? Most people can't bake, it's not like they're going to point and laugh if you burn it. Well, Cardin might. But I'm pretty sure he'll fit out the window."

  
"Oh, this is cake I can make. It's Blake-cake."

  
It was way too early for this. Even if Blake just had whipped cream and strawberries in that bag, and was going to start taking her clothes off. ...Okay, maybe it wasn't too early for that, but Yang really really **really** doubted that was about to happen. Probably.

  
"Pretend for a minute that I'm an idiot who doesn't know anything about anything, and explain to me, like I was Ruby and also five, what we are doing here."

  
Blake started pulling items out of the grocery bag. A jar of purple frosting, a big bottle of rum... "This is an old family recipe. It's cake-like, but it's not really cake. It's not baked, or anything." Graham crackers, milk. "It needs to sit in the fridge for a few hours, and I thought this was the best time. After everyone's had their midnight snack. So it would be safe." Another jar of frosting, this one yellow. No whipped cream, no strawberries. Yang was disappointed in the back of her head, but the rest of her was actually waking up again.

  
That was the what, and the when. "And you wanted company?"

  
Turning away, Blake started rummaging in a drawer of utensils. Said, quietly. "Yeah." She pulled out two butter knives, and set them on the island. Closed the drawer, and stared at the cabinets. "And I have no idea where anything is in the kitchen."

  
"Oh." Yang went around to the other side of the island, to stand next to Blake. "What do you need?"

  
"A small bowl, and a flat pan, and some kind of brush." Blake rolled up the wide sleeves of her night shirt.

  
Nodding, Yang pulled out one of the drawers, and poked through it, looking for the pastry brush. The one with silicone bristles, that was easier to clean. "The pans are all in that skinny cabinet next to the oven." She pointed.

  
"Thanks." Blake opened it up, and started looking through it.

  
"So why is it Blake-cake? Did you come up with it?" Yang glanced over, trying to gauge her reaction, but she was still pondering pans. At least the question hadn't made her tense up. Yang recognized this particular mood of Blake's, when she got really talkative, her thoughts almost overlapping as they spilled out. It didn't exactly portend a nice, relaxed night, as Blake tried to race ahead of her memories.

  
"My Aunt Sienna did. She just named it after me."

  
Yang had never heard Blake mention more family. Of course, she'd said maybe two sentences about her family, total. "Dad's or mom's?"

  
Blake pulled a pan out with a whisper of metal on metal. Of course she would. Always quiet, Blake. Except when she really, really wasn't. She set the pan on the island, and just quirked her head at Yang.

  
"Is your Aunt Sienna your mom's sister, or your dad's?"

  
"Oh. Neither. She's just a close family friend." Blake swallowed, and stared at the pile of cake supplies.

  
And Yang was pretty sure 'Aunt' Sienna had ended up on the wrong side of the White Fang split. Whichever side that was. Time to move on, before Blake's memories did more than nip at her heels. "Do you need a glass bowl, or metal, or...?"

  
"Whatever. One of those little side bowls would be fine."

  
Yang grabbed one, set it on the island. "So what are we doing?"

  
"Making cake."

  
"Did you forget the flour, and eggs, and sugar? Because those are kind of required."

  
Blake looked around the common room, then half-lidded her eyes. Her bow twitched. Apparently hearing no one else, she said, "That, Yang, is because you're not thinking like a Faunus. You know Faunus Fusion?"

  
"Kind of? There was a Faunus-run restaurant on Patch, right by Signal. And it advertised itself as Faunus Fusion, but it was pretty similar to the standard Vale food. Good, though. So I'm... really not sure."

  
Grinning, Blake said, "I get to tell you the secret, then." She leaned forward, "Improvise."

  
Yang waited for her to continue. And then waited some more. "So... how?"

  
"It's really hard to follow a recipe if you keep moving, and the local cuisine keeps changing, and the local vegetables are different. So, use what you've got. Can this recipe use almonds instead of vanilla? How about rum?"

  
"So that restaurant near Signal..."

  
Blake wobbled a hand, "Was Faunus Fusion in that they were using what they had. Which was the same stuff as everyone else on Patch."

  
"...Can a cuisine just be a philosophy, and not, you know, recipes? That seems like cheating."

  
"Don't you call using leverage in a fight 'cheating?'"

  
She had a point. "Yeah, it's not fair. That's why you should do it."

  
Blake smiled. "All's fair in love and war. And cookery."

  
"Okay. So... what are we doing?"

  
"Cheating." She indicated the ingredients on the table. "So pretend you want to make a cake. But all the flour is going into bread, and butter is too expensive. And the kids get the eggs for breakfast. And you probably don't have an oven anyway. These are all the sweet things you've managed to scrape together after a couple of weeks." Blake paused. "Really, that I went to the store and just... got these... it kind of goes against the spirit of the recipe. I should have dug into the back of the cabinets and found the stuff that no one else wanted, and maybe stole some jerk's flask, and gone dumpster diving, and made some fruit preserves..."

  
Yang blew out a breath. The fact that this _wasn't_ making Blake react poorly was almost worst. This must have been normal for her, growing up. It wasn't like Yang and Ruby had grown up in the lap of luxury, but... Yang had always just been able to go to the grocery store. Sure, they grew their own veggies, and some staples, but... no flour? No eggs? Yang remembered Summer baking cookies every week. Not for any occasion, just... because she wanted to. And Yang had multiple cookie recipes memorized, she'd made them so often. With Ruby around, they tended to vanish into a crimson whirlwind of crumbs, but still. Just make a decoy batch of cookie dough, and while Ruby was distracted, make the actual cookies.

  
"Anyway." Blake finished, looked up at her. "How do you make cake with these? Or something that's cake-like, at least?"

  
"You could just sandwich the frosting between the graham crackers. But that would be crunchy, and not very cake-like." She looked up at Blake, who nodded.

  
"I made it really easy for you, since we have everything we need right here."

  
Yang looked at what was left. Milk and rum. "Are we just going to soak the crackers in the liquids?"

  
"Brush on, but yes. Wet down a graham cracker with the milk and rum, frost the top, put another cracker on top of it, repeat."

  
"Won't it get, I dunno, soggy?"

  
Shrugging, Blake said, "What's the inside of a cake like?"

  
"Delicious and moist."

  
"What's the actual difference between moist and soggy?"

  
Yang thought for a moment. "Probably if the liquid is oozing out or not."

  
"You know how to make all this sound so appetizing." She smiled at Yang. "Trust me, it's good. Just don't drown the crackers." Blake poured a measure of the rum into the bowl, followed by about the same amount of milk. "And before you ask, no, I have no idea what the actual measurements for this are. Open the crackers?"

  
Ripping the top of the box off, Yang pulled one of the packages within out, and opened it.

  
"Just put two down on the pan, side by side so they're a square." Yang did that. It was weird, following someone else's directions in the kitchen again. Her dad could cook, but it was something he did by himself, taking up the whole kitchen. And even when he had let her help, he was bad at directions. Just expected her to know what to do. Which was why Yang had given up trying to learn cooking from him, and just read the cookbooks herself. She guessed it had something to do with Summer. How well they'd fit together, and how badly her dad had healed. "And now, we baste!" Blake dipped the brush in the mix, and started brushing it onto the crackers.

  
Yang heard a weird noise, and looked around a bit, wondering if someone had left their scroll out. And then she realized that it was Blake. Humming. Yang didn't even know where to start with that. Quiet, sneaky, ex-terrorist Blake, making unnecessary noise. Idly, not in a deliberate attempt to distract herself. At least, as far as Yang could tell. Blake seemed to be outdistancing her bad memories, and Yang didn't want to spoil anything by pointing out her very un-Blake-like activities. At least, not the Blake she'd known. "Do you want the purple or the yellow frosting first?"

  
"Um. Why not purple?"

  
It didn't really matter to Yang, so she pulled the lid and seal off of the first little tub, and handed it to Blake. Who started spreading it thickly on the moistened crackers. "Isn't this just a way to eat a ton of frosting, and not have it feel like you're eating a ton of frosting?"

  
"Yeah, I guess so. But it's cake. Isn't that the point of cake? The frosting?"

  
"I dunno. I always liked cookies more. I'd bake them a lot more, but we're so busy, and Ruby will eat most of them, and I keep thinking about Nora's abs, and trying to not eat so many cookies."

  
Blake grabbed another two crackers, laid them crosswise on the others, frosting squishing between them as she pressed them into place. Yang took the brush, dipping it a few times in the mix, and started basting the new crackers.

  
"I think you look great." Blake didn't look at her when she said it. Was she actually blushing? Yang didn't want to stare, or crane her neck around to get a good look, but she was pretty sure Blake was blushing. Her voice had certainly gone a little thicker and huskier.

  
"Thanks!" Yang wallowed in the compliment a bit, grinning. She'd completely lost her train of thought. Something about cookies? Can't have been that important, if it was already gone. "So how big are we making this Blake-cake?"

  
The cake namesake shrugged. "Two packages? Usually, we just went until we ran out of crackers or frosting."

  
Peering the box, Yang said, "We've got three packages, and a whole lot of frosting. Want to see how far we get?"

  
"Sure."

  
They worked in silence for a while. It wasn't like it was difficult work, but Yang was still up much later than she usually was, and was happy to just run on automatic. And Blake seemed perfectly content to just work and hum. When they ran out of crackers, it was a respectable-sized cake. Not enough to feed the entire floor, but definitely enough for RWBY and JNPR to have their fill.

  
Yang looked at the frosting. With two containers, there was still a good amount left. "What do we do with this, just eat it?"

  
"We can frost the sides. You get those two, I'll get these." Blake grabbed the yellow frosting, scraping out a big clump and slowly spreading it. It wasn't going to win any cake-decorating contests, but as long as it tasted good...

  
Working on her sides, a thought finally finished percolating through Yang's sleepy brain. "Hey, I never got around to asking. What's the occasion?"

  
Blake just kept working, paying an inordinate amount of attention to her frosting.

  
Blake-cake. **Blake**-cake. Yang ran around screaming inside her own head for a few hours, subjective. "...It's your birthday, isn't it?"

  
Setting the knife down, Blake mumbled, "Yeah." She wiped up a little spot of spilled frosting, and licked it off her finger.

  
"I'm guessing you don't want a party."

  
She shook her head. "I just want to have a good day, and do nice things for my friends. And just... not make a big deal of it." Blinking a few times, Blake wiped at her eyes.

  
Yang reached into the deepest pit of her mind, pulled out a Grimm-faced mannequin labeled 'Adam' and screamed at it for ruining Blake's birthday. She didn't know _what_ he'd done, but he'd done something. And she wouldn't make Blake relive it by asking. Ever. "Okay." Yang reached out, set her hand on the counter, right by Blake's. If she wanted to take it. "Can I get you something, or is that too much?"

  
"Too much." Blake grabbed onto Yang's hand, nearly making her knuckles pop.

  
Nodding, Yang just stayed where she was. Matching Blake's steady, deliberate breathing. She felt Blake's pulse through her hand, slowing down after a frantic burst.

  
After a few minutes, Blake straightened. "We should put the cake away. It needs to rest somewhere cool."

  
"I'll make space in the fridge." But Yang didn't move until Blake had released her hand. She crossed to the refrigerator, moving leftovers, and Coco's cold brews, and Pyrrha's Dragoboons, and the Rose/Xiao Long whole milk... "Okay, right up top here."

  
Blake had made a little foil tent for it, and slid the pan into place. Yang pulled a sheet of paper off the notepad on the fridge, scribbled 'You touch, I punch. ♥ Yang', folded it so it would stand up, and set it on the pan.

  
"Speaking of resting, Blake..." Yang didn't have to pull out her scroll to know that they were going to be short on sleep. At least it wasn't dawn yet.

  
"Can I... I mean, I know I haven't had a nightmare, but..."

  
Yang smiled. "Sure, Blake. You're always welcome. And I love waking up to Weiss' sighs." _And your face. If you won't let me give you a birthday present, I can do this for you. Not that it's a sacrifice. Not if it's you._

**Author's Note:**

> Good news, Blake-cake actually exists. Not _as_ Blake-cake, but still. It's an old family recipe, dating back to WW2. And it is delicious and rich. If you want to make it for yourself, see what it looks like, or learn the actual history behind it, [check it out here.](https://cannedpeachesproject.com/graham-cracker-cake-mimica-cake/)


End file.
